


Limbs and Bits

by FallingForKonoha



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward af, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Open to suggestions, eventually will earn its rating, sherolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingForKonoha/pseuds/FallingForKonoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well they were both a little awkward to begin with</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_‘You do matter…’_

“Molly”

His voice startled her out of her own thoughts, reality slamming back into her like a wave of senses, the smell of fresh bread in the toaster, the warmth on her cheeks from the setting sunlight peeking in through the crack between the closed curtains, and the sound of her over filling teacup spilling its Earl Grey onto her counter top, over-poured in her daze

“Oh! Oh dear!” she explained, dropping the kettle back onto the stove top and clumsily grabbing a paper towel from the roll, dipping it into the little pool of hot tea, and burning the tips of her fingers in the process

He watched with one brow raised in amusement as she bit back a yelp of pain, sticking her fingertips into her mouth, and he made no move to help her as he enjoyed the show of her practically tripping over herself to clean the mess she made

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologized, as if it matter to him that she was ruining the wood of her own counter

She quickly spilled out the excess from in the mug, using another napkin to dry off it’s handle before she gingerly extended the cup to him

He took it, noticing how she flinched away from the simple contact of his fingers brushing over hers, cheeks flushing pink at such an innocent touch, and he wondered vaguely if she could handle housing him until the next step in his plan was to come into play

It could be days, weeks, even months before the next move became clear. He’d only been there two hours and already she looked on the verge of fainting, overwhelmed when all he had done was drop his few belonging onto the floor near the door and asked for tea as he set up his clothes in her bedroom closet

Tedious

He had no other choice, though, Moriarty cutting him off the three people he had grown to rely on the most, for housing, for cases, and for protection and companionship, leaving only one person, Molly, someone he never thought he’d ask for help from, outside of pinching limbs from the morgue, and unlimited access to lab equipment

A soft meow at his feet had him looking down; an orange tabby curved its body against his leg while making the most obnoxious of noises, and he resisted the urge to kick it away form him. Molly, pushover that she was, would probably not take too kindly to him mistreating her annoying cat

“He likes you” she said, a soft and nervous smile on her lips

“He’s staking claim to me by rubbing his scent onto my clothing” he responded, glaring down at the feline like he could will it away if he tried hard enough

She bent down, scooping the cat into her arms and giving another uncomfortable smile, and it looked too big and too fake on her face

“I’ll go put him in the bedroom then” he said, quickly turning on the heels of her sensible flats, and hurrying down the hall

He sighed, his eyes wondering over her poorly decorated flat, tacky and dusty and much too full of poor quality wool

Still, it was very…Molly, with it’s warm colors and mismatching curtains and carpet, the wood different shades of brown and the telly outdated and obviously rarely used

He eyed the seating that sat across from it’s screen, his lips pulling down into a pout of distaste at it’s size, a tiny love seat, which would do absolutely nothing for his moods, he couldn’t sprawl about it, and sitting seemed unpleasant at the idea of either Molly or her horrid cat taking space next to him

He could always use the bed, but he hardly planned to sleep, not when he was to set about solving his most difficult puzzle yet, sleep could wait, he’d take the bed to think upon, lock her and her cat out

He sipped at the tea, the warm liquid soothing his throat but doing nothing for his nerves as they buzzed under his skin with excitement 

Oh but if only he could tell John! If it would have been possible to take the man with him he would, their greatest adventure yet, and the doctor would take notes to type up the longest and most likely poorly written recollection of their journey after a few months, at most a year, and then he’d be back at 221b, instead of stuck in Molly’s apartment with her bloody cat the left its fur everywhere

“Sherlock?” her soft voice broke his musings, and he didn’t bother to acknowledge her, simply take three long strides to sit onto the loveseat, the cushion much too soft and he nearly spilled his tea as he was swallowed by it

“Right… I’m going to… um” she pointed vaguely in the direction he assumed was the shower “I-if you need anything, you can knock… let me know” she blushed, brightly, as if the idea of him in her flat while she showered was overwhelming, and he became a little more certain he would have to look into new housing arrangements 

He placed his now empty mug onto the floor, turning so his head rested on the arm rest, his legs dangling awkwardly off the other as he curled himself into the tiny space available 

 

She wandered off without another word, and he let his mind race over his next move, trying to ignore the obvious difference in his environment, the scent the curled around air

 

So very…Molly


	2. Chapter 2

_Breathe, breathe!_

No, it wouldn’t do her any good to faint now, but with her forehead rested against the tile of her shower wall, she could feel heat rising up her cheeks and spreading throughout her whole body

Sherlock Holmes, THE Sherlock Holmes, was in her home, on her couch, lying there like it was a completely normal thing to do. The only thing separating him from her naked form was the curtain, the door and a dozen feet

She felt a bit light headed, and she turned the knob a fraction to release even cooler water, moving more under its spray and letting the cold wash down her face and neck. She was never a fan of hot showers, and now the idea of one, when her flesh was just _burning_ seemed downright unpleasant

With her eyes closed, she parted her lips just slightly to let out a sigh

She agreed to help him in any way possible, risking her medical license, her career, even her life, was an afterthought. All that mattered was keeping Sherlock ALIVE, and if she had to lie on an autopsy, fake tears, and harbor a man with a target on his back than so be it. 

She light herself on fire to keep him warm

 

Her fingers ranked through her hair, lathering on shampoo that smelled too strongly but that Sherlock seemed to like, having commented on it once before when she had first used it and had leaned over to hand him his usual coffee (black, two sugars), he had said, absentmindedly ‘Hmm… strawberries, how fitting’ under his breath and she almost dropped the mug out of surprise, because that was as close to a compliment he was capable of giving. Since then she kept it, even if it’s scent burned her nose and she felt it made her smell like an overgrown toddler

He liked sweet things, she’d noticed over the years, such an odd thing to pick up, but it wasn’t like she could get any work done whenever he was in the morgue, so she spent that time watching him. Before he met John, she was the one that would force him to eat, well, pestered him really. At the risk of getting yelled at or dismissed entirely, she’d picked up the habit of buying small things, brownies, muffins, tiny sandwiches, crisps, leaving them by the microscope and walking away before he could protest.  
He’d only ever eat the things loaded with enough sugar to rot one’s teeth

If she had known that morning he would be coming, she would have stocked up on food he may like, with her diets (because how could one NOT watch their weight whenever in the company of Sherlock?) the only things found in her cabinets were whole wheat and low fat jam. Her fridge not much better

That left more room for his experiments, though.   
John always complained of them, ranting to anyone who had an ear to listen, but she couldn’t see herself being too bothered, she did run the morgue, after all. A few thumbs here, an eyeball there, as long as they were kept in proper sealing he could have his fun

Maybe she’d bring him a good limb back from her nightshift later, that’d keep him occupied between whatever sources he needed filled

Turning off the tap, she wringed out her hair, grabbing a towel from the hook and running it over her skin

Her mind still focused on its favorite topic of the day, a schoolgirl crush really had blossomed into something more, not that it seemed to matter

She only did when he needed something in return, but she was okay with that. If she could be useful, if she could help… She brought Moriaty to John, after all, there was need to atone, to protect something precious to her

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t Sherlock’s person, he was hers

 

A soft plush dressing gown wrapped around her figure, she stepped out, towel hung loosely from her neck to catch the droplets collecting there

Opening the door to her bedroom, she let out a soft yelp at the sight of the man lying ramrod straight on her bed, fingers pressed together under his chin as he often did whenever there was a particularly difficult case and he was lost in his thoughts

When had he moved from the couch? She hadn’t heard him move at all, and her shower hadn’t lasted more than twenty minutes

“Your sofa is too small” He spoke as if reading her mind, his voice a low rumble in his throat

“S-Sorry” she blushed, quickly rumbling through her drawers for her nightclothes.

She hesitated briefly at her options; before pulling out her usual boring striped pajamas instead of the lacy night teddy she saved for a ‘special occasion’ that hadn’t actually come

“It’d be wise to gather bedding as well,” he grumbled, as if he couldn’t be bothered to completely come out of his thoughts to speak to her

“Sorry?” 

“Unless you plan to sleep here with me?” He raised his eyebrow, finally opening his eyes to cast her a look she’d seen may times before. The one that said he thought she was being practically dense

Of course he’d want the bed, she nervously chewed her lower lip, though Sherlock never slept (she knew for a fact from what she’d gather from John) he’d want that room for some peace and quiet, and since they hadn’t gotten around to discussing who would sleep where, he must have taken it as a sign to go ahead and settle. He had already placed his clothes in her empty drawers (she never had much clothing to begin with so it was no hassle)

“Yes, right” she said, pursing her lips before snapping her fingers to call her Tabby “I’ll go settle then, I fit better on the sofa, anyways” she smiled, again, feeling it awkward on her face like she was trying too hard

He hummed, and she closed the door once her cat slipped through, leaning her back against the wood for a brief second to slow her pounding heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written three chapters thus far (still need to be fleshed out a bit) and I'm already out of ideas -_-
> 
> Your chapter suggestions would be very much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

There were tears in her eyes when she came home, and no matter how many times she swiped her sleeve over her face to collect the ones that overflowed, more and more took their place

She couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard she tried, because god he looked absolutely WRECKED, broken, shattered, no trace of the man he once was, and his epilogue… the emotions and undertones and over all hurt in the whole thing tore her heart to shreds and she felt the icy grip of guilt stab its way into her heart whenever his voice broken during his speech

Her heart wrenched, and she covered her mouth to catch the escaping whimper

No, no she didn’t plan for this; she wasn’t ready, god there were fingernail shaped holes in her stockings from digging her fingers into her legs to keep from telling him, from jumping up out of her chair and announcing that the detective was NOT dead, why was everyone so upset?

John, a shadow of a man, had held himself together the best he could, but there was so much there that his hand was shaking, his limp was back, and she knew she was partly responsible

Sherlock told her not to breathe a word, that the best actors were the ones who did not know they were acting, but if he could see, if he had any idea of John looked like… he’d been as tempted as she was

And suicide, god that left behind more victims than any other form of death, because people would ask, what if?

Lestrade wondering if he hadn’t begun to doubt 

Donovan if she hadn’t set the spark in Lestrade’s mind

Anderson if he hadn’t fanned the flames

John if he hadn’t left Sherlock alone…

There was too much guilt, and it only added to her own, because she was one of the only ones there that KNEW

Mycroft, and Sherlock’s parents, they had the right to know, the only reason she did was because she sighed the death certificate, otherwise, would she be part of that crowd? Wondering, what if? What she could have done differently?

She didn’t hold any influence in his life, but if had truly killed himself, if he had died and she hadn’t been able to prevent it somehow, god it would eat her alive

_I’d regret not telling him, each and every day that he is loved, he is and always will be loved_

Would he have listened to her?

_‘You noticed’  
‘I don’t matter’_

 

If she thought Sherlock was dead, if Sherlock were dead

Another sob, and she leaned back against the wall, using it to support her weight as she slumped against it

“The emotional toll is getting to you” he said, quietly, uncharacteristically gentle, as if he was afraid his words would break her otherwise, and that made sense, it made so much sense when the only thing keeping her up was the wall and she didn’t dare respond, because if she removed her hand from her mouth she’d cry harder

“You can’t in anyway let him know”

“You didn’t see-”

“Yes, I did”

She stopped, wiped her eyes, and then shook her head, holding her breath

No matter how hard this was for her, she knew it was ten times worse for him

Crying wouldn’t solve anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for disappearing like that, a few thing happened, actually. My original computer broke, had to get a new one, and I moved states and had to figure out a way to get the story from computer A to computer B and also I just suck in general .-.


	4. Chapter 4

“Willy? Mommy’s home” Molly sighed, her shoulders slumping as she dropped her bag onto the floor

She half dragged her feet with exhaustion, holding the medical container loosely in her hand before slipping it into the fridge

A few fingers pinched from a motorbike accident, they wouldn’t be missed, and the only thing on her mind while she had snuck them out was Sherlock being glad, giving her one of his half smiles he pulled whenever she’d done something worth praising

Stealing for him was one of those things, apparently

“Silly Willy” she called again, her fingers pulling loose the hair tie and allowing the brown locks to fall around her shoulders, feeling the relief of the tension from her ponytail

She wondered into the bedroom, the cat curled into a ball in the center of the bed, asleep, and she looked around to see where Sherlock was

“You named your cat William” 

His voice made her jump, and she twirled around on her heels to come face to face with the consulting detective, the tall man held one brow raised, expecting her response

“Yes” she said, fidgeting under the intensity of his gaze

“You know”

She hesitated, considering lying but the thought was dismissed as soon as it appeared, because, honestly, who could get away with a lie when in front of Sherlock?

“Yes”

“How?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, giving another awkward smile that overtook her face whenever she was near him

“I sighed your death certificate”

“That cat” he gestured towards its sleeping form “is two and a half years old, you attained him within two weeks of his life which you then assigned him his given name. How?”

“Your brother” she blushed her confession, eyes darting away before deciding better and meeting his gaze straight on “He gave me your medical file, back when. Asked me to keep you safe”

“And why would he do that? It’s obvious you hold no influence in my life, what possible use could you be?”

She didn’t even flinch, because it was true, wasn’t it? She hadn’t understood the older Holmes’ motives either, there was no way he could have seen this coming, five years later, that his little brother would be here, standing in the quiet doctor’s home and spending the next few weeks living there

“You’d have to ask him”

He narrowed his eyes into one of his usual glares, eyes roaming up and down her figure like he could somehow deduce what his brother saw in her all those years ago when they had first met

“Perhaps your medical background led him to believe you’d be useful in spotting the signs of relapse. Though he obviously didn’t care enough to leave you his number”

“You’ve looked through my phone”

He crossed his arms and waved her comment away like he would a fly “I don’t understand what would leave you to believe a name like William was fitting to a cat”

“He reminded me of you.” She smiled, small and little and real for the first time “He used to fight with his brothers and sisters, and no one else wanted him because he’d bite anyone that tried to get close. I thought I should take him, since I’m more patient than most”

“He was your charity case” 

She just sighed in response. If that’s how Sherlock wanted to see it than there wasn’t any way to stop him, any protest on her part would work as proof on his. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth

Molly Hopper was never bothered by rough edges, and no matter how cut her hands became, she’d still hold on because she knew there was something more underneath, and just glimpses of that made it worth her while

“I put some fingers in the fridge, by the milk” she finally said after some silence, and he raised one brow and looked at her, so she gave a huff of laughter “I do post mortems, limbs and bits don’t really bother me”

He turned to leave the room, and she caught a glimpse of a smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I write Sherolly, the more it becomes my favourite ship. Obviously JohnLock is much more popular, but there's something sweet and innocent about these two, don't you think?  
> Anyways, I'm still completely open to chapter suggestions, otherwise this story will probably be cut short >.>

**Author's Note:**

> Someone give me a name for this fic? I can't think of anything ._.


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